


Probably about gardening

by anactoriatalksback



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Complicated boners, M/M, Wholesale spoilers for Flowers in the Attic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anactoriatalksback/pseuds/anactoriatalksback
Summary: Jared's convalescing, and Richard reads out to him. From Flowers in the Attic. What could possibly go wrong?





	Probably about gardening

‘Oh, Richard, let me get you something.’

‘No, it’s – Jared, don’t - ’

Richard fidgets. He’s come over to Jared’s condo to make sure Jared’s recovering from his flu, and Jared – thin-cheeked and with a slightly worrying hectic flush – has snapped into Good Hostess mode. He’s pulling out Russell Stovers and plates and, like, doilies, and Richard doesn’t –

‘Jared, please, I. I came here to, y’know, if you needed help.’

Jared’s hand flies to his chest. ‘Oh, Richard, to think of you putting yourself out – exposing yourself to – oh’ and his eyes begin to fill.

‘So,’ says Richard hurriedly, ‘look, I. Can I. Get you….’ He looks helplessly around Jared’s impeccably-tidy kitchen, and at the corn chowder bubbling on the stove, and the bread baking in the oven, and feels profoundly useless.

He hasn’t brought flowers because that would just be…because what even would he – he even spent time googling the language of flowers and there is literally nothing to express I Need You, You Weird Fleece-Vested Blue-Eyed Tree, And I Need You To Be Okay Again Very Soon And I Wish I Were Better At This Kind Of Thing.

Jared would probably know, but. You know. That kinda. Defeats the purpose?

And he can’t get Jared chicken soup because. Vegetarian. Which Richard remembered, at least, so.

So really. What’s left?

Well, there’s reading.

Reading!

Reading to invalids! That’s. That’s a thing, right?

And it sounds. Like. Y’know. Because. Richard can read. So. Yeah.

This’ll work.

‘Reading,’ says Richard. ‘I. You should.’ He gestures, unnecessarily, ‘Lie – lie down. And. Reading. I’ll read to you until. You. Fall asleep. Yeah.’

‘Oh, Richard,’ says Jared, ‘Please, that’s so – that you would, would, tend to me, stand vigil over my rest like, like, like a paladin over his maiden, I – but I couldn’t, Captain, I couldn’t permit you, I’d - ’

‘There’s no,’ says Richard, ‘I’ll – it’s. Let me, Jared, I - ’

‘Oh, but Richard there’s really no need, I - ’

‘Just,’ says Richard, ‘just. It’s no trouble, I - ’

‘But, Richard, I - ’

‘Lie. Down. Jared.’

He doesn’t mean for the words to come out like. Well, like – like whatever way has Jared looking at him with a little pulse fluttering in his throat and his eyes like saucers. But.

Jared walks to the kitchen. Turns off the stove. Turns off the oven. Walks silently to his bedroom. And as Richard trails behind him, Jared takes off his slippers, turns down the cover and gets between the sheets.

Whatever. Whatever gets the job done, right?

‘Good’ says Richard, and Jared’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek. Richard can feel his own cheeks warm, and he turns on his heel to examine Jared’s bookshelf.

Porter, Kahnemann, Gladwell, fucking Peter Thiel…Richard’s not reading those, the goal is to stay awake longer than Jared. Moving on.

Polidori. Shelley. Stoker. Coleridge. Poe.

Okay, there’s…there’s a lot of HP Lovecraft. O – okay…

May not be the most…like, Jared has screaming fits anyway at night, so. I mean.

Oh, here’s one. It looks kinda…there’s two, like, generic pretty blonde teenagers staring dewily at each other framed inside like a heart, and the title’s a little sick-making. I mean, _Flowers in the Attic_? Fucking dial it down, VC Andrews.

Still, thinks Richard, it’s probably just the thing to get Jared off to sleep.

Richard wonders what the title means.

It’s probably about gardening or something.

* * *

 

By page three, Richard’s beginning to regret his decision.

The narrator’s described her father’s eyes as cerulean, and Richard can’t help the little snort that escapes him.

‘Oh’ says Jared, eyes clouding, ‘it – yes of course I – I wouldn’t expect you to, to – Richard, please, you mustn’t - ’

Richard immediately feels like fifty kinds of heel. Jared had basically clapped his hands in glee when Richard had showed him what he’d be reading.

(‘Haven’t you read it before? Oh, Richard, what a treat. Oh, I can hardly wait for you to discover the Dollangangers, this is – oh, oh, Richard.’)

‘I wasn’t,’ says Richard hurriedly, ‘It’s just – I – you know – just, like, blue, right? His eyes are…the dad’s eyes are…blue? So just…say…?’

‘But, Richard,’ says Jared, half-sitting up, ‘what if it’s not _enough_ to say ‘blue’? What if you’ve studied, Richard, if you’ve observed, if the word ‘blue’ is too _spare_ , too dry, too vague to, to capture the, the light, Richard, the ferocity, the _worlds_ in your eyes?’

Richard stares at Jared. Jared has little circles of pink in his cheeks, and his eyes are shining, and he doesn’t look embarrassed, because Jared doesn’t embarrass, he’s just…he just….says these things, like they’re nothing, like they’re…..

And he’s right, Richard realises. What words could he use to describe Jared’s eyes? Blue, Richard would say, like a…..like a chump, or like, plusblue like he’s in _Nineteen Eighty Four_ or something, because what even, what could he….

Richard clears his throat. ‘Point’ he mumbles. ‘I’m – yeah. Sorry, Jared.’

Richard’s still not gonna say ‘cerulean’, though.

* * *

 

By page six, Richard has an inkling of why Jared loves this book so much.

I mean, this family is absurdly, eye-wateringly happy. Not even Brady Bunch happy, so much as….operatically, Kennedy clan as they must have looked to the outside world at some point as opposed to how, you know, they were.

Like, the parents are loving – maybe, like, inappropriately so? Richard shifts uncomfortably at how fucking all over the mother the dad is – and the dad loves the children, and the mother seems….well, frankly, Richard thinks she seems kinda shallow? Like, Jesus, lady, give it a rest with the primping and the beauty appointments, God.

And they’re all of them – all of them – beautiful.

Like, unearthly, implausibly, weirdly beautiful.

* * *

 

By page twenty, it’s even more obvious why Jared loves this book.

I mean, Richard should have known, really, with that breathless fucking setup of familial bliss. What was he expecting, five hundred pages of cerulean fucking…orbs, and Mommy’s perfume, and Dad’s skin-crawling handsiness with her, and Cathy’s fucking….rejoicing….in the stomach-churning moniker Dresden Dolls, which, come the fuck on.

But. Anyway. Of course there’s a tragedy. Dad’s dead, and Mom’s shit with money, because of course she fucking is, the vapid bitch. And now the family’s poor, and they have to be bundled off to a stranger’s house, a fucking….Gothic mansion in the middle of nowhere, fucking…louring out of the dark, and the kids are like, slipping and sliding and carrying the little ones, and yep, yep, Jared’s sitting up, and his eyes are wet, and fuck fuck fuck is this….

‘Jared, do you want…should I….?’

Jared shakes his head. Emphatically.

‘No, no, Richard, please, unless’ and his face falls, ‘oh, Richard, are you tired, you must be, oh dear, I - ’

‘No’, says Richard.

Okay, so obviously there’s gonna be, like, adventures, and the grandparents are gonna be, like, crusty, but the children will win them over with their like winsomeness and blonde fucking hair and Dresden-Doll-ness, which, what even does that mean, but that’s the playbook, yeah?

* * *

 

It is not the playbook.

Okay, on some level Richard should have….but he thought this was, like, _Pretty Woman_ Julia Roberts Jared, not… _Sleeping with the Enemy_ Julia Roberts Jared.

I mean, the grandmother is…like. Every single fucking…rosary-counting tight-lipped batshit crazy religious fanatic in one place. And Richard doesn’t think the grandfather’s ever gonna die, because that kind of person never does unless like maybe the kids are like driven to off him, because Richard is getting the sense that this is that kind of book?

But also – and on some level Richard should also have known this because yes of course because Jared ‘Glasshole’ Dunn, Jared ‘Butthole Doctor’ Dunn loves this book – the children’s suffering is kind of…weirdly sexualised?

Like, it’s not just the way the grandmother fucking…..lingers…..on, like, the vileness of the children’s bodies and like they need to shower blindfolded in the dark with oven gloves on or whatever the fuck lest they masturbate themselves into hell just at the sight of themselves or whatever, or the grandfather’s whole deal with disinheriting the kids’ mom for having, you know, fallen in love and gotten married, to, yes, okay, her half-uncle, which, okay, ew, but also…

Should the…whipping…of the mother…be….

Like, they basically make the mom do a strip-tease to show her children her wounds?

Which….

Richard feels is kinda….

Gratuitous?

But also…

Because they keep…like…the mom’s hot. And like. With the. Creamy skin. And. Whip-lashes and.

Richard shifts.

‘Oh, Richard’, says Jared, ‘oh, are you upset?’

Upset is…

Well, upset is _one_ way of…

Yes, let’s call it upset.

Richard shakes his head. ‘No, it’s just…’

‘Olivia’s not all bad,’ says Jared earnestly, ‘however it looks now, Richard.’

‘O – Oliv - ?’

‘The grandmother’ says Jared, and then blushes, ‘oh – oh dear, that was a spoiler. But’ he adds hastily, ‘not a major one!’

Richard nods, and shifts the book down discreetly.

Jared has creamy skin, he finds himself thinking.

What.

Creamy skin and a long back.

No.

Where even.

No.

Which….the welts would just gleam so….

No.

Like jewels.

 _No_.

What.

The.

 _Fuck_. Hendricks.

Richard breathes in. This book was given to teenagers, he tells himself. This weird BDSM fetishy incest-y thing is a….it’s a blip, it has to be.

* * *

 

Jesus Christ it’s not a blip.

And also, and more to the point, it’s – well, look.

Okay, firstly, okay, _firstly_ , the kids are basically locked up together. In an attic. For what seems like…I mean, the mom has no gameplan. Of course she doesn’t, the selfish bitch, she’s just off at her dinner-parties and her tennis and her chinless rich dude dates and she just leaves the kids to the tender mercies of Psycho Grandmommy Dearest, and like, the Bible, and congealing food that they have to eke out over the course of the day, and one hour of daylight in the attic or whatever, and there’s another thing.

‘The lack of sunlight isn’t – like, it wouldn’t be as bad for the twins as it would be for Cathy and Chris, they’re younger, they’d recover faster.’

‘But they haven’t built up immunity yet, Richard - ’

‘But they’d bounce back faster, Jared.’

‘They haven’t been given the _opportunity_ to bounce back, Richard.’

Hmmmmm. Still, though. Oh, and there’s another thing.

‘The ballet’, says Richard, when he can’t hold it in any longer. ‘Look, Jared, this doesn’t make sense.’

‘What doesn’t, Richard?’

‘Cathy’ says Richard, springing from his chair and pacing, ‘she practises her ballet for like an hour every day, Jared. That’s, like, serious exercise. It eats up a shit-tonne of calories she can’t afford to lose, they’re malnourished already, their hair should be coming out in clumps, and then on top of all that she’s doing high-intensity exercise?’

‘Well, maybe - ’

‘Shouldn’t her genius brother Chris be telling her to knock it off?’ says Richard, jabbing an accusatory finger at the book, ‘Her genius brother Chris who’s _studying to be a doctor_?’

‘He knows she loves it, Richard.’ says Jared, ‘Sometimes you have to trade off a physiological need against a, a spiritual one.’

‘She won’t _survive_ at this rate, Jared!’

‘She wouldn’t if she had nothing to look forward to either, Richard!’

They both freeze, staring at each other. Jared’s breath is coming faster, and his hands are clasped in his lap, and his cheeks are flushed, and he’s leaning forward a little, and his eyes are, are, they’re, it’s like he’s…

Like he’d open up Richard’s skull and beam the words directly in if he could.

Richard straightens. Shivers a little.

‘Richard, are you cold?’

‘Co – no, I - ’

‘You shivered, oh, Richard, you’ll catch your death, let me, I’ll get you a blanket, I - ’

And Jared’s so clearly about to get out of the bed and potter about to tuck Richard up in his chair with, like, a blankie, that Richard springs to Jared’s bedside.

‘No, no, it’s – Jared, it’s fine.’

‘You were _shivering_ , Richard, it’ll only take a minute, I just need to - ’

And then Richard has a truly catastrophic brainwave.

‘I’ll – can I – get under the. Covers?’

Jared stares at Richard, eyes very round, and Richard’s about to apologise and crawl under the bed when Jared nods, slowly, and shifts over, reaching out one hand to lift the cover so that Richard can slide in.

* * *

 

Well, this was a _great_ fucking idea, Hendricks.

I mean, yes, it is warmer now, which helps. And it’s kinda…cosy?

Which.

Is also.

Look.

Because. Richard’s…closer, right, like. Physically he’s in greater…proximity? So he, he needn’t…he can speak…softer, and Jared will. Hear.

Which.

Now that Cathy’s, like, with the…filling out, and, and, and Richard never liked the way Chris looked at her and now they are literally playing Mommy and Daddy to the twins and and and whispering to each other in the bath which, get out of there, you horny idiots, Richard would not put it past the grandmother to secretly tape you, Jesus, and also…

Jared’s right…

Like, he’s _right there_.

Lying on his side, staring up at Richard, eyes gleaming by the soft light of his bedside lamp.

Blue eyes.

Plusblue.

Doubleplusblue.

It…

It’s not….

It’s a little…

It’s _very_ ….

Anyway.

Cathy’s hair gets tarred and Jared gasps softly. Richard glances over and his eyes get, like, snared in Jared’s.

‘Are you - ?’

Jared nods. ‘That is a little unrealistic, of course, you’d realise, Richard, I did when Aunt Mabel did it to me, it takes more than a bath to wash it off.’

And then, of course, then Richard thinks of Jared in a bath, scraping at himself furiously, he’d need…he’d need help, wouldn’t he, to get at the…to, to reach?

Richard could help.

What.

Where did that…

No, this isn’t…

Richard could, could help Jared scrub at his back, that long pale back, bruises from his beating just beginning to fade (oh yeah that’s another thing how the hell is Mom wearing little sundresses or whatever so soon after her whipping, like, what even), flinching just a little as the water runs down his back, Richard murmuring apologies, maybe, maybe following the trail of the droplets with his…

Okay, _what_.

Jared’s skin gleaming in the dark like it is now, you wouldn’t even need a light, just, just Jared, all long limbs and eyes like, like searchlights, he’d….

No.

 _No_.

This isn’t.

What is.

Richard needs to.

He…

‘Richard, are you all right?’

Richard nods, though he doesn’t really…

That may not. Be. Strictly speaking.

True?

‘You’re looking a little flushed’, says Jared, and his head is tilted, and there’s that soft soft Jared look, but also is his voice…lower?

Yes of course it’s lower, Richard tells himself sternly, of course it is, they’re literally inches apart, why would Jared need to yell, not that he ever does, but why would he…

Oh God they’re literally inches apart.

Inches apart in the same bed.

The bed that Richard can feel shifting as Jared sits up a little straighter, hand reaching out to, to, to,

‘What’ says Richard, and clears his throat, ‘what, uh, what’re you doing there?’

Jared’s eyes widen. ‘I’m – oh, I’m sorry, Richard, I, I wanted to check your temperature, you seemed - ’

‘It’s fine,’ says Richard, ‘I’m fine, maybe. Just. Hot? Yeah. Hot. So.’

Jared purses his lips. ‘Richard, are you sure - ’ and his hand’s making its way for Richard’s forehead.

And whatever has happened to Richard and his faculties this evening, he knows enough that actual physical contact between a flushed, bed-warmed Jared and himself is the opposite of a good idea, not good, ungood, plusungood, doubleplusungood, so he shakes his head frantically. ‘I’ he says, ‘maybe I just – need to.’ And he gestures at his hoodie. ‘Yeah?’

Jared’s hand literally freezes in mid-air. Just…hovering, as Jared’s eyes widen even further. He nods. Waits.

Richard’s hand goes to the zipper of his hoodie. It’s shaking, shit, and he fumbles before he manages to get the zipper to unlock. He glances across at Jared and.

Jared’s eyes are flicking between Richard’s and the movement of his zipper. He looks back up at Richard and. Just.

Blue, thinks Richard. Dark in the lamplight.

Richard swallows.

Pushes the zipper down, slowly, slowly, why, what is he, he’s wearing a t-shirt, there isn’t even, there’s no, it isn’t like he’s, it’s nothing, literally nothing Jared hasn’t seen before, they’ve made the bed with Richard in a t-shirt and _boxers_ , for God’s sake, it isn’t like….

Jared wets his lips. It’s a small gesture, Richard doesn’t think Jared even knows he’s doing it.

Richard lets out a breath.

Pulls the hoodie off his arms, one after the other, slowly, eyes never leaving Jared’s.

Drops the hoodie onto the floor, he’ll get it. Later. Whatever. He doesn’t. He’ll. He has others.

‘Better now?’, asks Jared, eyes still very large and very dark and very sombre in his face.

Richard squirms.

Grabs for the book.

And realises, within half a page, what he’s suspected for a while.

This book? Is not gonna help with. Whatever is. Happening. To Richard. Right now.

Because now Cathy’s embracing her brother and whispering how jealous she’s gonna be of whoever he marries, and Richard glances down at Jared, and his eyes are shining and he’s nodding at Richard, nodding earnestly like that time he told Richard he was a catch because Jared did that he told Richard he was a catch like Cathy’s telling Chris right now and no no no no no no _no_ it’s not, it can’t, Richard can’t, Jared was being…sweet, and kind, and like pure, and

Not _that_ pure, another part of him says, an insinuating dark whisper from somewhere much, much lower down on Richard’s anatomy, he has this book, doesn’t he, this twisted trash-fire of a novel, he was so excited for you to read it, he wanted you to, he wanted you, and here he is, stretched out like a, like a fucking offering on his bed, his bed that he’s letting you share, you’re filth, but so is he, wanton filth, all flesh is pollution, he’s plating himself up, he knows, he knows, the little slut knows, he wants it, he’s laying himself out for you, take it, take what he’s offering.

And Richard will hate this book forever for giving his boner the voice and vocabulary of The Grandmother.

And it _is_ his boner. That, to Richard’s unending horror, is…kind of….har- _difficult_ ….to deny.

He’s under the covers, so. You know. That’s. One blessing.

And every panicked glance across at Jared to see if he guesses – oh God, can he, can he tell, he must, surely it’s, like, written on Richard’s face – and he’s plunged into this fucking swirling maelstrom of long pale throat with Adam’s Apple bobbing lightly, and blue blue eyes, and one curl loitering in the middle of his forehead where did that come from and collarbone pushing, fucking _thrusting_ , through the material of his sleep t-shirt soft soft so soft is his skin soft it probably is it must be soft and fragile like Jared soft and supple and elegant and like unexpectedly strong right like his hands are probably and and and

Oh fucking hell Chris is sucking on Cathy’s actual nipple, what. In. How is. Why.

Please, he tells himself, please, I came here to do a, a nice thing, I didn’t, I can’t be having a crush or more accurately _realising_ I have a crush on a) a guy, who is b) my COO, and c) sharing a bed with me, while I d) read like, young adult soft-porn or whatever to him, and e) have a boner, while I f) fucking…drown in some of the incest-iest, fucked-up-est fantasies I’ve ever had.

All at once.

Look, he tells his boner, just, just let me get out of here without jumping my poor sweet gangly dork of a COO, or frightening him into fucking conniptions, or, or, or anything, let me get out of here with whatever’s left of my dignity, and I’ll make it up to you, I promise, I’ll take the day off, I’ll take a _week_ off, I’ll get the good lube, I’ll let you watch the Pennywise porn you seem to like but that scares me half to death, anything, anything, please, please.

Annnnnnnnnnndddddd then Chris rapes Cathy.

Richard does two things:

  1. Gasp, out loud, like a little girl.
  2. Grab Jared’s arm.



‘Jared, what the fuck, what the _fuck_ , Jared.’

‘Richard?’ Jared’s eyes are wide and very concerned. ‘Are you – oh dear, I should have given you trigger warnings, but I was so excited for you to read it, oh that I could have lured my Captain into the, the maw of - ’

‘No,’ Richard shakes his head, ‘no – maws, no – I was kinda expecting them to….but why did he…..why did they have to…’ his eyes fall on the cover, and his injuries flood in on him afresh, ‘look at this, Jared, fucking…they’re, like, it looks like a, a _romcom_ , Jared, don’t they, why don’t they, they warn people, they - ’ he pulls himself up short, ‘Jared, how, how old were you when you - ’

Jared thinks. ‘The first time? Thirteen?’

Jesus.

‘Who gave it to you?’

‘One of my foster sisters.’

And Richard looks at his friend’s flushed pale face and parted lips and thinks _I’ll bet she did, the_ slut.

‘Are you, uh,’ Richard looks away, ‘are you. Do you. Keep in touch?’

He risks a glance back, and Jared shakes his head with a touch of regret. ‘No.’

Thank _fuck_ for that, thinks Richard.

‘Thirteen. I mean, fuck, Jared.’

Jared swallows. ‘It – it meant – a lot to me, Richard.’ His eyes rise to Richard’s, wet and earnest. ‘It – it _means_ – a lot – to me.’

And Richard does not even. Like. Where to even.

Jared says, cheeks pink, ‘they’re – Richard, they’re family. They – they _make_ a family, Richard. Cathy and Chris, they, they watch out for each other. They, they become who they need to be. They do what they have to do. It’s not – perfect, but – oh, Richard, they have each other, don’t you see? They have each other, and, and, and they’re all they have, but at least, _at least_ they have that much?’

Richard stares back at his friend, and thinks, helplessly, _fuck_.

‘You’, he begins, okay, promising start, now what, ‘you have’, he swallows, ‘you deserve…’ and he trails off, because his heart is doing something very uncomfortable and he is gonna, gonna have to, to take care of that on his own time, so.

‘Let’s…let’s. We’ll. Finish. The book, yeah?’

Richard has many a ‘Fucking _finally_ ’ for Supposed Genius Chris when he finally, finally gets it through his thick Oedipal skull that his mom does not give a solitary flying fuck about them, like Cathy’s been saying all through the book.

Though Richard was fully not expecting the mom to be poisoning the kids, holy shit.

And when they shin down their Actual Blanket Ladder to what seems like….safety?, Richard slumps back against the pillows, chest heaving like he’s run a marathon.

‘Holy fucking shit, Jared.’

Jared’s smiling at him, eyes dancing, curled up on his side with his fist under his chin. ‘Oh, Richard, you were _magnificent_.’

Richard turns. Wriggles. Pushes a curl behind his ear. ‘I wasn’t. Too.’ He gestures. ‘I know I get kinda. Nitpicky or whatever? Like with the – you know, like, Googling how arsenic actually works to prove a point, I didn’t want you to - ’

‘It was _wonderful_ ’, says Jared, ‘the, the exuberance of your passion, Captain, it’s’, he scooches a little closer, ‘I can’t describe it, Richard, it’s so…..’

Richard finds he’s leaning in as well. ‘Yeah?’ he says, and oh his voice does not normally sound like that.

Jared’s eyelashes flutter. ‘Mmmmm’, he says, on a little outward breath.

‘And I didn’t’, Richard clears his throat, ‘this was – are you – I wanted to – read you to, to s-sleep, so - ’

Jared does not look like he’s ready to sleep. His cheeks are pink, and there’s like a little…sweat?....on his upper lip, and his lower lip’s hanging open just a little, and if Richard reaches out his hand to his long throat, yes, Jared, head back just like that, if Richard presses his fingers to the little hollow to feel the vein there, oh, it’s picking up speed, it’s fluttering under Richard’s fingers, fluttering like, like a little bird….

‘Are you?’ says Richard, on a whisper. ‘Ready?’

Jared’s eyes drag open. ‘R-ready?’

Richard shakes his head. ‘Sorry. Sleep? Are you? Ready?’

Jared’s staring at Richard. Slowly, very slowly, his giant hand comes up to cover Richard’s fingers on his throat. Lightly, so lightly, his fingers stroke Richard’s. Richard finds his own eyes shutting.

‘I’m not…quite ready’ says Jared. He swallows, and Richard sighs as he feels the movement. ‘But – if, if you would…there’s…there’s a – sequel?’

Richard’s eyes fly to Jared’s. Jared who is looking hopeful and worried and excited and terrified.

‘They need to be revenged on their mother, Richard.’

Richard can feel his face crack open into a grin.

‘Let’s get ‘er, baby.’

**Author's Note:**

> My undying thanks to the incomparable joycecarolnotes, Neurofancier and cygnes for beta-ing and cheerleading. Any remaining ellipsis abuse is my fault and mine alone.
> 
> My tumblr handle is itsevidentvery, if you'd like to come yell with me over there.


End file.
